


Sparring Session

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine a sparring session with Sam. Drabble dare received from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparring Session

His punches are swift, soaring through the air with a speed that comes from years of training with a marine, most of his life hunting things that go bump in the night. You duck just in time to feel the breeze from his fist in your hair. He pulls his arm back, moving to elbow you in the side of the head, but you smack at it, sending it back the way it came.

 

Raising your firsts, you bounce on the balls of your feet. “Come on, Sammy, is that all you got?”

 

He shakes his head as he sidesteps, mirroring you, his bare feet barely audible on the floor. “You know it’s not.” He spins on his heel and using the momentum of the spin, he kicks out his leg, grunting in approval when you catch it.

 

He expects you to let go, so when you don’t, his foot shifts awkwardly on the floor. “What the –“

 

Before the curse can be uttered, you kick his remaining leg out from under him, sending him to the floor with a smack. Your name comes out in a pained grunt before he jumps up, rubbing a palm against his hip. “I’m not giving you what you want.”

 

You watch him back away to the wall and grab a bottle of water. After draining the bottle, he wipes the sweat off his brow with a towel.

 

You’re still bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands raised in the air ready for another attack. “And I told you, give it to me. I can take it.”

 

He scoffs and tosses the empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Tell you what, if you can come over here and make me, I won’t hold back.”

 

“Promise?”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Promise, short stuff.”

 

You stop bouncing as you look at the distance between you. There’s enough room so that you can jog up to a good clip before jumping through the air. Even so, you back up until the cool temperature of the concrete wall brushes over your damp shoulders.

 

He arches a brow. “Wait… what –“

 

“Just remember, you asked for it.” You give your most wicked grin before pushing away from the wall, hands pumping by your sides. He has no time to move out of the way before your body collides with his.


End file.
